


Buzzed

by hhopp



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunk Castiel, Drunk Dancing, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 03:42:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10454211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhopp/pseuds/hhopp
Summary: You're the song my heart is beating to.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I went on a writing binge yesterday and did quite a bit of drabbling so I'll start posting those over the course of the next few days.

Apparently, Cas could not hold his vodka. 

 

It was Friday night, they’d decided that they needed a break. They’d put on some direct-to-video flick that Sam had gotten from the $1 bin at Walmart and dropped onto the couch, already half-asleep. The movie was awful, the acting dry and the special effects less realistic than what they faced on a daily basis. Sam had gotten fed up halfway through and left. Dean pulled out a flask instead. 

 

“You want any?”

 

“Dean, I cannot get drunk as you can.” Alright. He shrugged and took a swig, and had the cap halfway twisted back on when Cas grabbed his wrist. “It might be fun to try, though. This movie is terrible.”

 

Dean had watched him take six shots of whiskey without getting a buzz, before. Hell, the guy had needed a whole liquor store to get himself sloshed. He had a funny feeling they were going to need some of the good stuff. 

 

Funnily enough, that turned out not to be necessary. Sure, the angel had emptied the flask and a case and a half of beer without getting much more than tipsy. But when they broke into the bunker’s liquor cabinet, Cas was gone in half an hour. 

 

“Dance with me,” he slurred, trying and failing to get off the sofa. 

 

“Baby, you can hardly stand.”

 

“’s fine. We’ll figure it out.” 

 

Dean sighed and, laughing, hauled him to his feet. Cas kind of held onto his neck, but he wasn’t sure whether it was to be romantic or to keep himself upright. When Dean set his hands around his trench-coated waist, he really couldn’t help but liken it to a crappy high school dance, minus the crepe streamers and watered down punch.

 

After some time, Cas started humming something. It was off-key and tuneless, and every so often he’d drop off and stare off into space for a while before picking it back up again. Despite that, it was still kind of pretty. The guy had a really nice voice. 

 

“You wanna try a spin?” he asked. Cas let go and Dean held his hand up for him to loop under, but Cas started doing this funny little tiptoed pirouette before slumping back against him. Dean chuckled and tugged him closer, letting his chin rest on his downy hair. 

 

“I should do this professionally.”

 

“Sure, Cas.” Without responding, he threw himself back and toppled to the floor, taking Dean down with him. “What the hell?”

 

“You were supposed to catch me,” he grumbled. “It was a dip.”

 

“You sure about that?” Cas snorted and they got themselves up off the ground. “I think it’s time we head to bed.”

 

(The following morning, the angel told both Winchesters in no uncertain terms that they were not ever to allow him to touch alcohol again.)

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. Kudos, Comments, you know the drill if you've ever read an author's note before.


End file.
